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Sunday, December 23, 2012

Lina’s life was always going to be difficult – through no
fault of her own. She was born a woman and she was born a witch …

The village of Elbasa is situated on the Northern
Plateau at the foot of the Black Mountains in a locale known as the Land of
Death. Here, wizards, assisted by their mutes – young boys with their tongues
cut out – enforce the Lore with fearsome rigor, and kings amass riches from the
collection of the Blood Tax. The threat of vendetta hangs over the inhabitants
like a pall of obliteration; it may strike at any time and worm its slow,
deadly way through a whole village, leaving a trail of tombstones and poverty
in its wake. It is into this harshest of landscapes and community that the pretentious
poet Hammel wends his way to be rid of ‘the endless jostling for status among
the petty literati’ of the southern city and to recover his health after an
affair. On the first day he blunders into the domicile of Damek, one of the
hapless inhabitants of Elbasa. When he is forced to spend the night there and sees
an apparition of Lina – the deceased love of the crazed and broken-hearted
Damek, it is Anna, Hammel’s housekeeper and Lina’s childhood milk-sister, who
narrates to him the tragic story of their lives.

Justice is the leitmotif that sits at the heart of
Alison Croggon’s new gothic fantasy novel, heavily inspired by Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights (closely paralleling
it’s plot). Set in a barbarous patriarchal society where women are regarded as
little more than possessions, and witches are murdered at birth, the reader is
positioned to be continually affronted by the oppression, violation and
dismissal of the womenfolk in the story. In a poignant moment of
self-reflection, Anna, the narrator, acknowledges her anger about the injustices
meted out to Lina because of her sex: ‘Lina’s only crime was to be born a
woman, with powers and instincts that were thought proper to belong only to a
man … [w]hy should any of us be deemed monstrous for heeding the simple bidding
of our hearts?’

Croggon’s adroit slant on psychology is one of the
story’s strengths. Lina, confiding to Anna, laments the way the two men in her
life have manifested their love for her: ‘…both of them betray me … [they]
destroy me …Do you think they just love a phantom, whatever they saw when they
looked at me, and forgot to love me? I wonder that, Anna, and it makes me feel
so lonely …’

The characters in Black
Spring are predominantly brought to the page by Anna in her journal-like
narration to Hammel. The book includes one small section devoted to Lina’s
diary. Damek’s character, constructed largely by Anna and Lina, with dialogue
scattered sparely throughout the text, comes across in the book as mysterious
and ghosted.

Black Spring is
a compelling read, dark, tragic and embedded with ideology that will provoke a
response in its target audience. Haunting, arresting and well-crafted; it is
easy to see Croggon is a poet.

Walker books 2012

(A version of this review appears in Magpies
Vol 27, Issue 5, November 2012)

A seed sprouts between the great exposed roots of another
much larger tree, and over time, grows into a sapling. Under the expansive
canopy of the older tree, the little tree is protected from the elements until
one fateful night when ‘the sky battered the earth’. In aftermath and the light
of day, ‘Tree was dazzled. And drenched. And shaken to his roots.’ Tree’s
protection has disappeared: the storm has decimated the forest and the big tree
has fallen victim to the ferocity of the tempest. So from now on tree must
stand alone … Until years later a seed sprouts at tree’s side and a tiny
sapling begins to grow as the cycle begins again.

Inspired by the death of Parker’s father just before
his son was born, Tree is the story
of the cycle of life. On one level the story is achingly simple: birth, growth
and death. At another level the text and illustrations work together to create
a deeper subtext that delves into existence, loss, seasonal change, protection,
journey, generation and the many other related themes depicted in rings of word
clusters on the back cover of the book. Parker’s use of personification, highlighting
the notion of tree as a character in the story, increases the accessibility of
the text to the young child.

Matt Ottley’s illustrations bring yet another level of
meaning to the story. His use of perspective and focalisation situates the
young reader to see the world from the small tree’s vantage point – sometimes
in the form of a close up of the small creatures that inhabit the tree and its
mountainous exposed roots, or a wide shot looking up from the base into the
expansive, protective canopy overhead. Ottley’s use of colour works with the
text to foreshadow events and to add depth to the mood and tone of the book as
it moves through the storyline. The symbolism of the family who visit the tree
at different times in their lives and in different configurations adds
poignancy to the story, as does the depiction of the graveyard at the foot of
the tree towards the end of the book.

Tree is a
gentle book that could work on a number of levels with a young child. The
reading experience would certainly be enhanced by discussion with an adult
about the story’s subtextual significances.

Little Hare 2012

(A version of this review appears in Magpies
Vol 27, Issue 5, November 2012)

School isn’t the easiest of places for thirteen-year-old Roxy
Ran; regarded as a social misfit by her peers, she and her only friend,
Cinnamon, are sneered and laughed at and constantly bullied – especially by
Heroshi (Hero), national martial arts champion and captain of the school team.
It’s not much better at home, where Elecktra, Roxy’s sixteen-year-old sister,
bullies her as well. It’s no surprise that Elecktra – so stunningly beautiful
that the traffic stops for her if she walks out in front of it – ignores Roxy
at school and pretends she’s not related. Roxy has never met her father and
doesn’t know anything about him. Her Japanese mum is a martial artist – a great
shadow warrior – who can ‘slice the wings off a mosquito with a ninja star’.
Art, Mum’s partner is an artist.

It is not until Hero’s bullying tips Roxy over the
edge when he tries to drown Cinnamon’s kitten that Roxy’s ninja powers are
unleashed and she displays some disconcerting and mysterious fighting
abilities. But new boy, Jackson Axe, recognises Roxy’s powers and teaches her
about the world of martial arts, and the White Warrior and legendary Tiger
Scrolls which they must find before the samurai do. Roxy ends up in the fight
of her life – everything hinges on the courage to believe in herself enough to
release her inner ninja in order to defeat her mortal enemy.

This is a book I found warmed up as it went along.
Once the story enters the magical realms of samurai and ninja and the reader is
positioned to see Roxy come into her own as she comes to terms with her role in
the search for the Tiger Scrolls and White Warrior, the book comes alive. As a
Taekwondo aficionado and aesthete, Hall’s depictions of martial art conflict is
more than convincing and helps to move the story along at a cracking pace. The
text invites the reader to enter into the struggle as the ‘new Roxy’ tries to
believe in herself and her ninja powers while battling with the ‘old Roxy’s’ destabilising
and impeding tactics.

White Ninja delves
into the themes of identity, bullying, self-image, loyalty and transformation. The
first in a series, its ending leaves the reader hankering to know what happens
next.

Angus & Robertson 2012

(A version of this review appears in Magpies
Vol 27, Issue 5, November 2012)